


Come By Tonight

by sarahstarkiller



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is soft, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, Sharing Clothes, Steve is in love, and also in love, because he deserves it, cozy billy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21543952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahstarkiller/pseuds/sarahstarkiller
Summary: Steve squeezes the cord and ruts softly into his mattress, trying to keep his voice somewhat level as he rasps, “Please come by tonight.”On the other end, Billy chuckles in that playful way he does, teasing Steve, drawing him in further. “You’ve got homework, baby. You’re busy, aren’t you?”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 10
Kudos: 321





	Come By Tonight

It’s dumb. It’s fucking stupid.

It’s close to Thanksgiving, it’s really almost Christmas if he thinks about it, and he should be focusing on gifts, on his history paper due on Monday, on the game tomorrow night.

But his brain is far too small to think about those pressing matters. Instead, Steve’s brain focuses on the droplets of rain that race down the windows during study hall, on the rumbling of thunder overhead, and the gray hoodie Billy’s wearing.

It doesn’t  _ seem _ important, but it  _ is. _ Steve’s eyes keep landing on Billy, on the side of his face and the way his eyes glide over the pages of his book. And he keeps getting fixated on his gray fucking hoodie.

They sit together at lunch – side by side, in fact – so while Billy snatches a third tater tot from Steve’s tray, he places a firm hand on Billy’s thigh and squeezes gently. Billy squeaks, but only Steve hears him.

“Is that new?” Steve nods his head toward Billy’s sweatshirt.

Billy grins devilishly and shrugs. “It just kind of appeared.”

“Yeah? Is it yours?”

Billy bites his lip and no one else exists, according to Steve. “Mm. All mine.”

And on their way to their lockers, they get a little lost and end up under the bleachers in the gym. Steve can’t think about anything but the sensation of Billy’s tongue in his mouth, of his thighs clenching around his hips. He fists the front of Billy’s sweatshirt –  _ his _ sweatshirt – and the bell rings, and Billy has an important test to take for an asshole teacher so he has to go.

Their schedules don’t align after that, so they see each other once more in the parking lot before heading home. But they don’t go straight to the parking lot anymore. They’ve made it a custom to hang out under the football bleachers for a few, and today they stand there glued together as the rain soaks the two of them.

And Billy tastes  _ sweet  _ so Steve slips his hands into his back pockets and grips his ass, letting him yelp into his mouth.

They pull away for a moment, and Steve looks at Billy in his sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head, and the red of his mouth and his blue eyes. Thinks about the marks he put on the insides of Billy’s thighs the other night and shivers.

Steve gets so caught up in all of this, but of course, they’re separating all too soon.

And when he’s home for one, two, three hours, he can’t shake the image of Billy in his hoodie, and only his hoodie. His shower is unproductive, his homework is attempted and abandoned, and nothing on TV is entertaining.

So he resorts to lying in bed while the mixtape Billy made him plays because he’s, like, lovesick or something. Thunder shakes his window while he daydreams about Billy and his laugh and his smile and the way he calls Steve  _ lovey _ when he gets all soft and pliant and warm. He’s dialing Billy’s number before he can tame all these stupid feelings, and before he can stop himself from getting hard.

Billy answers and Steve’s lips curl into a smile at the sound of his voice. “Can I talk to the biggest fucking tease in Indiana?”

“Only Indiana?” Is his smartass response and Steve wants to drag him through the phone and into his bed.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Listen, tough guy, I’m gonna need that hoodie back.”

“Finders keepers.”

“You  _ found _ it in my room,” Steve laughs.

“That doesn’t make it yours,” Billy argues easily. “Anyway, I like it better than you do.”

“Incorrect.”

“You’re right, my mistake. I think you like it best when it’s on me.”

Steve pictures the look on Billy’s face in that moment: all smug and bratty, and Steve just wants to wipe it away, wants to watch him turn into a babbling mess like he does.

“I guess,” Steve says all cool, aiming to piss Billy off a little. “You’re cute, sure.”

Billy scoffs. “Sure, yeah. You know, last night, I wore your sweatshirt to bed. And this morning when I woke up I got hard thinkin’ about you, Steve, smelling you on me and everything. So I touched myself and I imagined that you were holding me when I came.”

Swallowing hard, Steve squeezes his eyes shut and turns over onto his stomach. Just like that, any attempt at acting cool falls away. It doesn’t matter; Billy makes everything else seem insignificant.

Steve squeezes the cord and ruts softly into his mattress, trying to keep his voice somewhat level as he rasps, “Please come by tonight.”

On the other end, Billy chuckles in that playful way he does, teasing Steve, drawing him in further. “You’ve got homework, baby. You’re busy, aren’t you?”

His voice licks at Steve’s insides, and so his groan is both in arousal and frustration.  _ “Billy,” _ he whines and he’s not at all proud of it.

Billy, though. Billy is proud of it.

“Aw, don’t be so blue, sailor,” he practically purrs and Steve shivers. “You’ll see me tomorrow.”

Steve hears some rustling on Billy’s end, and he wonders if his boyfriend is getting off on making him beg for it. He most likely is. Billy’s charming like that.

“I need to see you now.”

“Why?”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat and he can’t stand it anymore, he needs to touch himself. So he does; he slips a hand into his sweats and groans softly as he strokes himself. He can’t remember what he was going to say.

“Stevie?” Billy drawls and Steve can hear the smirk in his voice as he says it. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers, his grip on the receiver so tight he’s afraid he’s going to break it. “Get your ass over here. Please?”

“Slow down there, pretty boy,” and at this, Steve can’t help the grin that blooms on his face, along with the deep red flush. “What if I’m doing something important?”

_ “Hargrove.” _

Again, Billy chuckles, but this time, it sounds like he’s out of breath. “Alright, Harrington. So what if I do come over? What will you do if I come?”

Steve’s got a few ideas that have his dick throbbing in his loose grip. “I’ll get my hands on you,” he breathes and hopes he didn’t miss the mark. “I need to feel you, baby…”

“Yeah?” Billy asks coyly, and Steve  _ needs _ him here.

“Yes, fuck,” he breathes and gives himself an indulgent squeeze.

“I love your hands, Steve. So big, and those  _ fingers,  _ fuck,” Billy inhales sharply. “You could fuck me with your fingers all night if you want. Gag me with ‘em for all I care.”

“Shit, but I like the sounds you make,” Steve teases his balls with his fingertips and wishes it was Billy touching him like this. “I like to hear your pretty noises when you get all greedy for my cock.”

Billy makes a sort of strangled sound and Steve loses his patience a little.

“Hey, doofus. What are you doing that’s so important, huh?” Steve grins at the knowledge that Billy’s just as thirsty for it as he is.

Billy’s silent for a moment, and then Steve hears him moan softly. The sound makes him ache all over.

“The hell do you think, you fuckin’ goof?” He says it desperately, because he’s a brat and he wants Steve to treat him like one.

“Are you opening yourself up for me?” Steve’s grip on his cock tightens and he gasps.

Billy manages a hum, and then a, “Fuck,  _ Steve.” _

Now that the mood has shifted, Steve gladly takes the liberty to torture Billy in the sweetest way he can. Billy’s a pretty thing, but he melts when Steve gets dirty, puts him in his place. “Taking that as a hard  _ yes. _ If you come over, I’ll make you ride me.”

“You’ll  _ make _ me?” Billy laughs, a tiny whine of pleasure cutting him off, giving himself away. He’s breaking fast.

“Mm,” Steve jerks himself lazily, picturing Billy above him, and then below him, open-mouthed, pearls of tears stuck to his eyelashes. “And then I’ll hold you down and fuck you slow, till you’re crying for it.”

“Please, I need you to,” Billy mewls and his tone lets Steve know that he’s lost on it; cock hungry and stupid for it.

“Need me to what, sweetheart?”

“Steve…”

“Baby, just say it for me.”

“I need you to fuck me, Steve, I need you to hold me down and fill me up, please. Need you on my mouth, too.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open but he manages a laugh, asking, “Want me to hold your hand, too?”

Billy is moaning softly, all pretty and eager to be held down by Steve, fucked by him, loved by him. “...please.”

That word, it washes over Steve. It makes his cock jump in his hand, it makes his toes curl, and his chest aches because Billy is the apple of his goddamn eye. He sits up on shaky knees, cock leaking all over his sweats and says, “I’m coming over baby, I gotta be with you tonight.”

“Yeah,” Billy agrees, groaning. “Yeah, lovey, come over.”


End file.
